


A Relationship Cut Short

by the_bonny_wordsmith



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Feels, Oneshot, Red String of Fate, Steam Babies - Freeform, Zutara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bonny_wordsmith/pseuds/the_bonny_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short oneshot Zutara.<br/>Katara finds herself on the Fire Nation throne when Zuko dies before his time; she is expecting their first child. It then follows Katara's life, and eventually she and Zuko are reunited, discovering that while the course of true love never did run smooth, it always leads in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Relationship Cut Short

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to heighten your feels, listen to "The Sun in the Stream" by Enya as you read (the name is ironically appropriate given my iTunes shuffle happened to put it on as I was re-reading this):  
> Also, if you like this, or any of my stories, and you want access to sneak previews on chapters that I'm working on, Like my Facebook page, or Follow my Twitter :)  
> https://www.facebook.com/josephinetomkinsauthor  
> https://twitter.com/jtomkinsauthor  
> 

            Zuko and Katara’s marriage was happy. _Very_ happy. But it was painfully short. Zuko lived just long enough to have a family – though it was never one that he met. Katara sometimes wondered whether the shortness of their marriage was to compensate for the immense amount of happiness they had had. She came to the conclusion that she did not know the world anymore. Sadly, she took up her position as the interim leader of the Fire Nation.

            Katara weathered the funeral that she never wanted to be at with all the courage she had ever displayed across her lifetime. There was never going to be anything harder that she would have to face. She was shut away from others in her grief; isolated by the intensity of her own personal experience of loss – the bond between her and Zuko had been something else, it had been something so strong that it united naturally opposing nations with harmony. And now her other half, her love, her anchor, was gone. There was only her and the still, cold body of her husband – the only time his skin had ever been cold to touch. She was alone, but for the child still growing inside her, and their baby was the only thing that prevented her heart from shattering completely.

            Three hours of every day was spent in front of his portrait – Katara knew that she would never be able to remove the scent of burning incense from her hair again, but she had no wish to; it smelled like him, and there were some mornings when she woke up she thought she could still smell his smell in the air and on the pillows they had once shared. It hurt, the realisation that he was gone and not coming back, but she could not help herself from pursuing that dream-like moment when she could believe for a few fragmented seconds that all was well in her life and that everything was right in the world. There was no need for words to be spoken to the portrait, though there had been so much more that she had always wanted to say to him that she had never been given the chance to, but her tears fell so much and so often that it seemed that all the waters of the world would pass her eyelids before she could ever stop.

            She went through the pregnancy alone, mustering her courage once more to do so cheerfully – save in those few moments alone with him when she could pour out the bittersweet sadness in her heart; for all happiness at her pregnancy was eventually tinted with sorrow when she remembered that he would never have the chance to hear himself called “Father”.

            Those present at the easy birth said that he _had_ to be watching over her through it; it was as swift and uncomplicated as any a mother could wish for. Seeing Zuko’s eyes gazing out of their newly born daughter’s wrinkly fair face rebuilt Katara’s heart and soul. Their twin son who was delivered minutes later had a tiny shaggy mop of spikey hair that fell across his pale skin and into his blue eyes. For the first time in nearly a year, Katara was crying tears of joy. She thanked the Spirits for sending part of her husband back to her. The third child; another daughter, with his eyes and her skin, was a surprise to everyone. Katara wished Zuko could hold the three wriggling bundles of joy that were now in her arms, and hoped that he could see them from where ever he had passed on to.

            The palace came to life again, and the sound of squalling infants and baby talk became a new background sound to life in the palace, not to mention the various baby smells that joined the usual complement of incense and fire. Family members came to visit and see the unexpected triplets, and were glad to see the change the children had made to Katara. She was happy again. Seeing Zuko’s portrait now only took an hour each day, and tears and heartache were no longer the main feature of every visit.

            Very soon, the palace was full of the sound of rushing feet and thuds, as the babies learnt at first to crawl and then to run, and discovered the hard way that learning to walk first really is best sometimes. After that things became even noisier, as words and speaking were discovered, and demands made – it appeared that all three had inherited both parents’ dynamic and determined natures. The children are shown what their father looked like, and are told many stories by their mother about him.

            Burnt and frozen or simply soaked objects mark the discovery that the children are benders, and not afraid of experimentation. Being a mother becomes a lot more difficult with bending-related arguments to settle, and Katara finds that her only time alone with Zuko is perhaps half an hour or twenty minutes of relaxation before bed.

            Dealing with three adolescents at the same time is harder than Katara anticipated. She often wishes Zuko was there, although is not always sure how helpful he would have been in maintaining discipline. She often suspects that more of their children’s exploits would have been carried out with his permission than without. She tells him this once a week when she has time to see him, and in her dreams. She refuses to let the Fire Sages crown their eldest daughter as Fire Lord now she is sixteen; sixteen is too young to have such a burden.

            Katara laughs when she thinks about how Zuko would be behaving if he had to be the one counselling their children through their first relationships. She finds it difficult to accept that they are making this next milestone in their lives, but gives advice when it is wanted and not wanted, and is always there as a person to rant at, for a hug or a shoulder to cry on.

            Their eldest daughter is crowned Fire Lord. The nation is happier than it ever has been; they know she will be as good as her father was and better. Katara is glad to surrender the caretakership of the throne to their daughter; she knows she will be a wise and just ruler.

            Learning to let go of her baby turtleducks is difficult. Katara speaks to Zuko very often about it. She feels him asking her to let them flap their wings and fly the nest; they are adults now, and she is starting to feel her age – keeping up with them is already getting harder, although she does not let them know it. She is spending more time with Zuko now that their eldest is on the throne, drinking tea and thinking thoughts.

            In the same year that Katara must say her last goodbye to her brother as he departs the world, she welcomes in her first grandchild. It is a bittersweet year. But the hurt of one is salved by the joy of the other, though neither diminishes either. Katara wishes Zuko could have held his grandchild, though she can imagine the petrified expression that would have filled his face.

            Their children are getting old now, and all have growing children of their own. Katara watches them undergo the same events and emotions and processes she had to as they grew up. She spends time with Zuko’s picture even more now, between watching their children hunt out their grandchildren and either lecture them or play games.

 

            At long last, it was time for Katara to leave the world. She went without reluctance; she left behind a stable and safe world, a kingdom that was well governed by her grandchildren, who were all starting to build their own families and discover the joys and trials of parenthood. She closed her eyes on a cold night in winter.

            She reopened them in a place that was both familiar and unfamiliar to her. She sat up, noticing that for the first time in the past fifty years or so, the movement was easy and natural, and that her joints did not pain her as they usually did. Her hands when she looked at them were small and slim once more, her skin smooth and young; her hair when it fell over her shoulder into view was rich and dark brown again. She felt her face, and all over her body in rapid succession, feeling rather than seeing the magical transformation her body had undergone; she was no longer an old woman, she could be no older than her mid-to-late twenties.

            “I have waited a long time for you, my love,” she looked up at the voice, her body moving with an eagerness of speed that defied the laws of nature. Zuko was standing there – her darling Zuko; just as he had been when he died; young and handsome and full of life, no more than two years older than herself. She rushed at him.

            “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again; I thought I’d lost you for good.” She said into his chest, unwilling to show her face for the tears of happiness, and unwilling to let go of him now that he was here and hers once more, lest he disappear.

            Zuko laughed, letting go of her with one arm and lifting the other. A gleaming red ribbon ran through his palm. Following it with her eyes, Katara saw that one end was tied about his ankle, and the other end, after flowing in some loops, was tied to hers. “We were never going to be separated forever,” he said as she wonderingly grasped some folds of the ribbon as well, and feeling a warm pulse ripple through her body as she did so, memories of their time spent together rushing unbidden to her mind. “We are always going to find each other; _love_ transcends all boundaries.”


End file.
